I'll Settle
by ally-kat312
Summary: Gregory watches Christophe shovel snow in their driveway and thinks about their life in small town Colorado.


**A/N: Hi. Going through and editing then re-uploading all my stuff. So this is better quality now. Enjoy.**

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Gregory watches the man outside, pushing the newly fallen snow out of their driveway. For someone who usually loves working with a shovel, he seems to hate the task, cursing and kicking when anything heavier than powder gets in his way. Gregory laughs softly. Of course, he knew this would happen. That was the reason he sent his husband out there to shovel. He had needed some entertainment while being stuck in the house. And why not get work done too in the process? Gregory looks at the beagle sleeping at his feet and wonders if he should send the dog out there too. It had taken years of endless pleading and bargaining and convincing, but Christophe finally caved in and relented to Gregory's requests.

"Ok ok, fine. We'll get a dog, beetch. Stop bugging me about eet."

Gregory knew his partner hates, or rather, fears dogs- and for a good reason. But the friendly, fairly small beagle hadn't scared him too much yet. Gregory scratches it behind the ears.

"Good boy," he murmurs, and thinks better of sending the dog into the deep snow. It might bury the little dog with just the slightest shake of a tree branch. He goes back to looking outside. Christophe is now yelling at someone across the street, most likely arguing with their neighbor Kenny about something stupid. The two of them got into arguments over nothing but they were still close. Gregory smiles at the memory of last Christmas when Kenny came in already half drunk. There had been shouting and, yes, arguing, but later they all sat outside smoking and joking like the old friends they were. Gregory had opted for a cigar though. He hates how unrefined he looks with a cigarette, though he would be confused to see his husband without one. Not that he didn't want him to stop- every day he tells Christophe how awful those cancer sticks are for his health and every day Christophe continues to smoke them.

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The kettle in the kitchen whistles, pulling him out of the memory. He walks in to pour himself a cup of tea. Earl Grey of course, perfect for the snowy weather. Perfect for any weather really- it's good tea. Gregory thinks about calling up a friend like Pip to have a cup with him. However, Damien almost never lets Pip leave Hell to drink tea with Gregory. Unless he comes up anyways to cause mischief with Christophe. They mentioned something about burning down small churches at one point. He prefers to not think about it so he's not tempted to take action and cause an argument. Gregory doesn't want any part of whatever they have and do. He considers inviting Corey instead. Both he and Christophe like Corey, but Corey doesn't drink tea. He takes coffee, black, and always steals some of their silverware when he comes over. He does that at every house he goes to though, not just theirs. That boy hoards silver like a dragon hoards gold, Gregory thinks, sipping the tea slowly. Not just that, but Corey is Christophe's friend first, not Gregory's. He just likes listening to Corey talk. It's refreshing to just listen to another Brit in this desolate town.

Gregory found it sad that he doesn't have a long list of friends to choose from. Then again, the town's population wasn't big enough to accommodate many friends. After Corey he may consider Gary, but Christophe is home and hates Mormons. There was Stan, but Gregory can only take so much awkward fidgeting from the man as he fails to truly comprehend what Gregory is saying. Intelligent banter is near impossible in the town. Stan may bring Kyle, which would be good, but Gregory always feels himself subconsciously staring at the Star of David that Kyle keeps pinned to the hat he never takes off. Kyle likes everyone to know what makes him special in the town, but he also gets upset if people goggle at it like they had never seen a Jewish star. Gregory can't help his interest, he honestly curious to learn more about the religion from Kyle, but he doesn't want to discuss it. The two's visits to their house were few and far between. No, not them, Gregory thinks.

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He's back to staring at Christophe shovel the driveway. The poor bastard is only halfway done and lighting up already. His dependency scares Gregory but he doesn't like arguing about it. Maybe Craig, he thinks, his attention back on having someone over. But Craig practically runs Tweak Bros. Coffee, even though he's just an employee. The real owner apparently considers the job to be "way too much pressure!" It was very typical of him. Gregory sighs and considers just putting snow tires on the car and letting Christophe come inside and stop shoveling. But this is just the first snowfall of many, and winter is barely started. Someone has to shovel today and that someone is Christophe, though hopefully he'll yell at Kenny and convince him to attach a snowplow to the front of his truck and plow the street. Gregory frowns anyways and looks out the window, trying to convince himself to let the man in. He needs proper logic to outweigh the logic of keeping him outside shoveling. Christophe's probably cold, for one- he doesn't wear a hat like many others in the town, and his coat is beginning to wear thin. His boots are fine though, steel-toed and tightly hugging his calves. He should be fine. Then he notices his gloves.

"My god," Gregory sighs. "He's going to give himself frostbite." Christophe is wearing his usual worn leather gloves, fingerless ones to be exact. He's crazy, Gregory thinks, chuckling a little. Crazy and stubborn as all hell. When the man is on the other side of the windowpane, Gregory raps on the glass to get his attention.

"Come inside love," he says. "There's no need to keep shoveling. You'll catch your death out there." Christophe gladly, for once, throws down his shovel and walks to the door. Gregory hears it open, the Frenchman already halfway through his mutterings.

"I 'ate zis town." He stomps the snow off his boots. "All ze cold weather. And sleet. Ze wind ees a beetch." Slamming the door, he shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the floor in a damp heap. Gregory picks it up and hangs it to dry.

"Well that's what you get when you decide to live in the Colorado mountain area," he laughs.

"I didn't ask to live 'ere. Zis was your idea," Christophe grumbles, throwing logs into the fireplace. "I never wanted zis."

"And what did you want?" Gregory leans in the living room doorframe. "A nice little country house in France, surrounded by all the dirt you could dig?"

"Oui."

"Minus me?" Christophe lights the logs and tends to the flame until it's stable, then looks at Gregory.

"Non," he says, "plus you."

"Ah, so I was merely a bonus to the country house?" Gregory sets the tea mug down as Christophe walks up to him.

"You are eempossible mon cher," he mutters, but smiles slightly. "Fine. I wanted to be wiz you, no matter where zat was. Preferably we would be somewhere een France where no one even knows what South Park ees-"

"But you'll settle for this small mountain town life?" Gregory puts his arms around Christophe's shoulders, making the other laugh.

"Oui, I will settle." They kiss, and Gregory frowns slightly.

"Your nose is freezing," he says.

"I was shoveling snow outside for a 'alf 'our, what do you expect?" Christophe rubs his nose on Gregory's face, making him whine about the cold, but laugh. Their beagle runs into the room, drawn by their voices, and circles their feet, panting happily at the two. Christophe picks him up and scratches him behind the ears, then sits in front of the now blazing fire in the fireplace. Gregory sits beside them, grabbing his tea and a book. The room is quiet except for crackling logs and the occasional whine of the dog when Christophe stops petting him. The snow keeps falling and no one comes over.

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**A/N: Please review even if it's just like a smiley face or frowny face or whatever so I know you actually read through this. Send love to fanfic writers- we're not professional and not asking for money, just some appreciation.**


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